


Waking Up Slowly

by sergeant_smudge



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Charles You Slut, Cuddling & Snuggling, Ficlet, Fluff, Hangover, Kissing, M/M, Nonsense, Pick-Up Lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:06:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6723436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeant_smudge/pseuds/sergeant_smudge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of the first time Charles woke up in Erik's bed (and certainly not the last).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Up Slowly

Charles wakes up slowly, the ache in his head nudging him gingerly towards consciousness. He pushes this aside, instead taking in his other senses. His skin is warm and mostly bare, the familiar feeling of cotton sheets and boxers resting on his legs. 

He strolls mentally down his own body, finding his chilled toes pressed against warm skin, legs tangled in sheets. Comfortable warmth radiates from another presence, enveloping the fingers he has tangled in the soft material of someone’s shirt. He smiles lazily, eyes still closed. 

His mind reaches broadly into the room, dusting over the other person. The mind is familiar, but the persistent throb in his head makes it difficult to identify. The effort sends pangs through his skull, so he gives up, instead shifting closer to the person. He sighs quietly, basking in the idyllic sense of the moment. 

“Charles, are you awake?” 

_ Oh, shit.  _ He starts violently, body stiffening and eyes opening with a speed that could rival light’s. He stumbles, nearly falling off of the bed, but catching himself, awkwardly crouching on the edge of the mattress, staring at Erik Lehnsherr’s bewildered face. 

He is slightly mussed, hair off-kilter with sleep, white t-shirt wrinkled slightly, a single auburn eyebrow quirked in confusion. He creases the corner of a page in his book and sets the worn paperback down. 

“Good morning,” he says wryly, a strange amusement written across his face. 

“Morning,” Charles replies, setting himself carefully back on the bed. He struggles to force the shards of memory into something coherent – there was … laughing … Raven … the children … and his mother’s liquor cabinet. Ah, that was the headache then.

Erik is still staring at him, and Charles averts his gaze, looking down at himself. The half-nakedness has suddenly become more of a concern. And as for the other half of him,

“These are not my pants,” he mutters, tugging at the boxers and spying an identical white waistband hugging Erik’s hips. Suddenly, a thought glances across his mind. He blinks up at Erik. “Did I – did  _ we?”  _  he begins, halting his hand gestures before they become coherent. Erik cuts him off, a succinct dismissal with his palm. 

“No,” he says quickly, reading Charles’ face. Or thoughts. Which one of them was the telepath again? Perhaps he’d been projecting then, Charles decides with a crimson blush on his ears. “You did kiss me though,” Erik says decidedly. 

Charles freezes, filtering the words through his head several hundred times more. “I kissed you?” 

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a one-sided affair,” Erik says factually. “I also kissed  _ you.” _

Twelve theses on genetics, a bachelor’s degree in biology, two PHDs,  _ telepathy _ and Charles Xavier  _ still  _ can’t compose a coherent thought in response to his friend’s statement. “You – we … ” he rubs a hand messily over his face, tugging on the waves of hair that are being held hostage by a cowlick. 

Suddenly Erik’s bantering expression closes off. Charles’ hungover self may as well have been speaking to the headboard Erik looks so casual leaning against. “I assumed you were reciprocating out of mutual interest, but I suppose alcohol can bring out our worst qualities, no?” His voice is clipped, and though he tries to disguise it, a bitter hint of disappointment lingers in his tense lips. 

“No, no, no,” Charles says, stumbling over his words in order to get them out quicker. He leans over to Erik, his arms suddenly too long for his body, his hands too big, the ache in his head persistent as ever. Both his and Erik’s emotions are mixed like dyes poured into a load of laundry, and Charles sorts through it as best as he can, sorting the colors. 

“No, Erik, my friend, you misunderstood,” Charles laughs in spite of himself. Here he is, in bed with a man he’s had a teenage crush on for weeks now, having apparently kissed in a drunk flurry, and he has Erik thinking it was a fluke. 

Erik’s eyebrows are still knotted harshly, his muscles tensing in what is probably a very literal Fight or Flight response. Charles moves himself closer to Erik, shuffling his bare knees against the cotton of the sheets. 

He presses a thumb gently against the tensely wired pleat in the man’s face, smoothing the crease. “If I kissed you, Erik, it was very much intentional, I can promise you that.” He runs his fingertips along the ridge of Erik’s jawline, gently moving them closer. Little sirens are going off in Charles’ head, excited butterflies probably radiating from him in waves. He smiles a sort of grin that has only ever led to good things, and is only half-surprised to receive a smile in return. 

“I don’t expect that you are about to tell me that I have a  _ groovy mutation,  _ hm Charles?” Erik says coyly, a wicked smile glinting up at Charles. 

The telepath sits back, face going scarlet, and jaw dropping only slightly. “Did Raven tell you that?” he groans, embarrassment wallowing in his gut. 

“I’m afraid not _. _ I had the pleasure of experiencing it first hand, last night.”

“But you kissed me, so it did work,” Charles says, unable to suppress his happiness in the moment. 

“I suppose,” Erik replies, his eyes betraying the stoicism he has put on. 

“Do you think it’ll work again?” Charles asks, leaning forward once again. Erik responds, mirroring him. 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to try,” he says, and Charles believes he understands the magnetism Erik so credits himself with. 

 

-x-

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually enjoy reading fluff, but writing it is so fun (primarily bc I can make fun of Charles' awful pick-up lines)


End file.
